


Underneath It All

by elisetales



Series: Promises [1]
Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Cats, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abel gets a cat, and Cain isn't happy. Fluff, kittens, and domestic bliss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underneath It All

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, as promised! I do hope it's not _too_ saccharine for you.

Abel hesitated outside the door to the apartment before going in, weighted down with grocery bags on both arms and a sodden, mewling, black and white cat clutched to his chest.

Cain was going to kill him for this, but it was now or never.

Abel twisted the key in the lock and pushed open the door, stumbling inside and kicking it shut behind him. He dropped the bags to the floor, one arm still around the cat, and threw the keys onto the little lamp-table at the end of the hall.

He wrinkled his nose when he got to the living room, instantly catching the fading scent of cigarette smoke: The small apartment was draughty, windows thrown wide open and gauzy curtains billowing inward with the breeze, and Abel almost yelled out at Cain for leaving the windows open again—Cain only ever did that when he smoked inside and didn’t want be caught. But then Abel remembered the cat in his arms and promptly closed his mouth.

“Abel!” Cain called from somewhere in the house, and Abel’s heart began to hammer. He licked his dry lips and made a rushed decision to drop the cat behind the couch before Cain came out and saw her. Almost as soon as he did, Cain appeared in the doorway, hair wet and shirtless, his toothbrush stuck between his lips.

“Why you all wet for?” he asked Abel and made a face, words garbled with the toothbrush still in his mouth.

“Er, it’s raining outside in case you hadn’t noticed,” Abel said more aggressively than he'd wanted to, pointedly glaring at the open windows. “I couldn’t get a lift with Stacey. She had to rush off to pick up Ellis and so I ended up walking—”

“Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist. Fuck, Abel, I was only asking.” Cain pulled the toothbrush out from between his lips and padded toward Abel, placing hands on his shoulders and leaning down to kiss.

Abel gave him a quick peck on the mouth and turned his face away, Cain’s lips catching his cheekbone, and Cain frowned but didn’t say anything about it. Abel thought he heard the cat mewl quietly, but Cain didn’t comment on it and so Abel kept silent for now.

“Why didn’t you call me to come pick you up?” Cain asked, and Abel shrugged, muttering, “I know you’ve got to work tonight. I didn’t want to wake you if you were sleeping.”

“Fuck that. You know I don’t like you walking around by yourself,” Cain growled, and he sounded pissy now; probably looking for another excuse to fight.

“You walk around by yourself all the time,” Abel snapped at him and glared.

“It’s not the same.”

Abel rolled his eyes, not wanting to get into another argument with Cain—they’d already fought so heatedly this week that one of the upstairs neighbours had called the police on them at three o'clock in the morning. It had been one of the most embarrassing moments of Abel’s life, trying to convince the responding officers that the marks on his arms had been caused by an accident with the oven at work, and that Cain  _wasn’t_  hitting him.

They hadn’t bought Abel’s story, though, and a few days later Abel had received a phone call from the Domestic Violence Support team. It was mortifying, and it was all Cain’s fault. He always shouted the loudest and was rude and aggressive to pretty much everyone who crossed his path—all of the neighbours hated him and felt sorry for Abel, and so Abel couldn’t quite blame them for wanting to see Cain dragged out of the place in handcuffs.

Cain rubbed Abel’s tense shoulders and Abel blinked, torn from his thoughts.

“You cold, baby? You’re shaking.”

Abel shook his head and looked up at Cain’s face, bracing himself for the inevitable fight they were going to have the moment Cain found out about the cat. With a deep breath, Abel said, “Please don’t get mad.”

“Huh? Don’t get mad about what?”

But Abel didn’t need to say anything else, because Cain glanced over Abel’s shoulder then and his face twisted into a scowl. “What the fuck is  _that_?”

Abel turned around and saw the cat sitting on the couch, licking herself. “It’s a cat,” he quietly replied when he turned back around, flinching away from Cain and nervously fiddling with his hands. “I found her crying outside in the alley and I couldn’t… I couldn’t just _leave_ her there, it didn’t feel right. She looks like she’s starving and I think she might be pregnant.”

“ _Pregnant_?” Cain repeated, looking as disgusted as if Abel had gone and spat in his face. The cat jumped down from the couch and wound itself aroud Cain's leg, rubbing the side of its face against him, and Cain impatiently nudged it away from him with his foot. He ground his jaw and looked down on Abel with a menacing glare, finger pressed to the centre of Abel’s chest. “No, Abel. Just... _fuck_  no. We’re not having a cat, alright, have you lost your goddamned mind? Now get rid of it or I swear to god I’ll fucking drown it.”

Abel’s mouth fell open in shock, as if Cain had just slapped him. Cain was rough, but threatening to kill an animal was a new low, even for him. 

“Why do you have to be such a monster?” Abel whispered.

Cain’s expression faltered slightly before he scowled even more savagely and spat, “You wanna look after that fucking thing and its sprog for the next ten years? You think we can afford a pregnant cat when we can barely pay the gas? Fuck, Abel, you’re such a stupid bitch sometimes.” He turned to go when Abel shoved his back, hard. Cain whirled on him, looking angry enough to really hit Abel this time, but in the end just shook his head and muttered, “Tch. I’ll deal with you when I get home.” He stalked away then, towel riding low on his hips.

“She’s staying!” Abel called to Cain’s back, red-faced and shaking with anger. “And if you don’t like it, then  _you_  can go. But if you lay one finger on her, Cain, I’ll never forgive you.” He meant it, too. If Cain crossed this line Abel would never look at him the same way again. Didn’t know if he could love him as much as he did now, and that thought killed him.

Cain ignored him and hastily dressed, threw on his jacket, and left the apartment early—he didn’t start work until eight—without kissing Abel goodbye. Abel sat there in the quiet after Cain had gone, thinking and brushing out the cat's fur while he felt angry and guilty and stupid all at once.

* * *

Abel couldn’t sleep until Cain got home; he never could when they’d been fighting and there was still bad blood left between them. He lay there in the quiet, the cat curled up in his arms and purring loudly. It was later than usual when he finally heard the sound of the deadbolt and Cain’s boots in the foyer, the rustling noise as he hung up his jacket. The cat jumped down off the bed to see what the commotion was, and Abel frowned, suddenly alone.

He sat up, unease still tight at the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Cain was still angry at him, was too tired to fight with him all over again. All he wanted was to curl up around Cain and go to sleep, the harsh words they’d exchanged earlier all but forgotten. But Cain was unpredictable and there was no telling how long he’d hold this grudge, how long he'd punish Abel for forcing him to swallow this, or even whether he’d make good on his promise and try to hurt the cat.

Abel swung his legs over the side of the mattress and went out to greet him, needing to lay eyes on him despite the tension still between them.

His jaw dropped when he padded out to the kitchen and found Cain standing there at the bench, unpacking cans of cat food, an unlit cigarette behind his ear and the cat tucked beneath his arm. He looked up at Abel, who was suddenly conscious of his messy hair and bleary eyes, and gently said, “Go back to bed, baby.”

Abel was nearly speechless. “Cain, what are you…?”

“Just go back to bed, I’ll be there in a sec.”

“We can keep her?” Abel blurted, and Cain gave him a slow smile.

“Do I have a choice?”

“No,” Abel honestly replied, and Cain laughed a little, shaking his head at Abel.

“Then yeah, I guess we can keep her. But I get to name her, yeah?”

Slightly overwhelmed, and so giddy he had to force himself not to jump up and down, Abel nodded and said, “You can call her anything you want, Cain, as long as it’s not 'bitch.'”

Cain left the bags there on the bench and stood in front of Abel, holding the cat out between them and frowning at her while he chewed on his lip. “Koshka,” he said finally, and Abel smiled and put his hand on Cain’s warm cheek.

“It's perfect, Cain, I love it.”

Cain let the cat drop to the floor, his expression suddenly serious when he looked back at Abel. “I’m sorry about the fight. I didn't mean what I said.”

“It's alright, I'm sorry too.”

“I wasn’t going to… I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I know that.”

Cain let out a low sigh. He looked exhausted. “I was just pissed you brought her home without asking me first; you know I hate it when you do shit like that, Abel. But look, if you really want her that fucking bad you can have her, alright? I’m not going to stop you.”

Suddenly serene, all the tenseness and worry now vanished from his body, Abel sighed and pulled Cain’s head toward him, catching his lips in a gentle kiss. He put his arms around him then, kissing his face, and breathed in his scent—beer, tobacco, aftershave. “Thank you,” he whispered, pushing his hands beneath Cain’s shirt and palming the warm skin of his back.

“Don’t make me regret it,” Cain muttered, though he kissed the top of Abel’s head.

Abel leaned back to stare at him, pushing the dark hair out of Cain’s eyes, and asked, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” Cain replied, and Abel smiled, kissing him on the cheek and pulling away to reheat some dinner for Cain, unable to wipe the stupid grin off his face as Koshka wound around between his legs. 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Thirty Dollars a Week](https://archiveofourown.org/works/641714) by [asocialconstruct](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/pseuds/asocialconstruct)




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